


do with me what you want

by radiodurans



Category: Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Car Sex, Feminine Harry Styles, Hooker AU, M/M, Other, References to Chasing, References to Transmisogyny, References to Traumatic Sexual Experience, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: Harry meets a client in a bar and has sex with him in his car.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Xander Ritz
Kudos: 21





	do with me what you want

**Author's Note:**

> This was a 1500 word commission and was a $3 and up story on patreon. Thanks to yellowflares, sulkingroom, and an anonymous donor for funding me.
> 
> Check the tags - don’t want to trigger anyone. Take care of yourself <3
> 
> Let me know if you’re interested in this ‘verse.
> 
> Please do not send Mx. Harry Styles this fic. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental yadda yadda etc. I make no claims about Harry Styles' actual sexuality or gender within this story. Think of it as a roman a clef with the real names still tacked on.

Harry’s dead tired from an underpaid gig by the time he rolls into his second shift at a scummy dive bar downtown. After flashing his ID at the bouncer, he makes a beeline to the single stall restroom to check out the damage to his hair and makeup from the several previous hours. The mirror reflects a train wreck back at him – tangled curls and runny mascara and lipstick smudged far past the rim of his mouth. He grabs a brush, styling gel, some makeup wipes, and a bag of drug store makeup out of his purse. 

“The product isn’t going to sell itself,” he says quietly as he cleans the ruined makeup off of his face.

He’d never thought as a small-time touring musician that he’d have to lean back into the hooking that paid for his living expenses in university. As it turns out, promoters are all too happy to shaft acts for the crimes of showing up late, not drawing a big enough crowd, taking too much time setting up, not buying enough drinks, buying too many drinks, telling jokes in between songs, etc., etc., etc. Tonight, the club promoter cut $500 out of their verbal contract simply because he lied about having enough money to pay for both an opener and a main act. Their promised $1000 was cut down to $500 between the five of them. This means slightly less trouble for the other members of his band (all of whom are in long term relationships with pooled income) but leaves him a bit out in the cold. Rent is due in a few days, and it’s not cheap, so – time to put on his big girl pants as it were and make money the old fashioned way.

 _Bloop!_ His Grindr pings with a message from the, er, _curious_ man who (hopefully) will be paying him for the pleasure of getting his dick wet tonight. Harry yanks his hairbrush through a few more tough knots before he checks to see exactly what the man has said.

 _there in a few_ :)

Harry runs his hand through his long hair to artfully muss it before responding.

_ok kiss.emoji_

He selects a particularly slutty red for his lips – straight-acting men who are into, er, _this sort of thing_ tend to go pretty wild for the genderfuck bimbo look. Harry also lines and smokes out his eyes before putting all of his makeup away. Then, he lint-brushes his sheer blouse and flowing trousers. After his purse is all cleaned up and zipped up, Harry takes a look at himself, rotating in the mirror like a Make-A-Sim. He looks. . .good. His exhaustion isn’t as present on his own face as it was before which instills him with a sense of dignity. _It’s just work_ , he thinks. _Just a job with a uniform like any other._

Right on cue, the man – _xander_ – buzzes him. 

_Here!_

Harry exits the bathroom and sits down at the bar. He puts his purse on the floor and slouches artfully over the counter. In strolls, well – _the type of man_ he sees almost every time he gets paid for sex. Lean but built, about a decade older than him, with the air of having enough money to play a rich person sport in university. He’s probably going through a quarter-and-a-half life crisis over his attraction to crossdressers like all the others. Xander needs to get this fuck out of his system before going on his merry way, reassured that he’s a totally heterosexual male who just happens to like getting his dick sucked by anyone with long hair and a mouth. Easy.

Xander grasps Harry’s hand and shakes it firmly before reassessing and treating it like something that’s a bit more delicate.

“Hi. I’m Xander,” he says.

“Harry,” says Harry with a little nod. Xander orders them two vodka-sodas (though Harry would have drank vodka straight if Xander had asked his preference.) They get to talking, which mainly consists of figuring out Xander’s identifying information (last name, Ritz, residence, three blocks from here, age, 35) just in case he tries to have one over on Harry or worse, hurt him. 

After two more drinks, Xander says, “You know, I’ve never done this before.”

Which – the number of times that Harry’s had to hear _that_ one by this point is too high to count. His answer down to his body movement is rote by now. Harry spreads his legs wide and rests his hands flat on the bar stool between them. He bats his eyelashes prettily at Xander and gives him a little smile.

“That’s fine. Why don’t we go out to your car to get a little more privacy, then?”

He holds out his hand for Xander to take. His new client leads him out to the car, opens the door to the backseat, and allows Harry to climb inside first before climbing in after him. Xander is breathing a little more heavily now, sweaty from drink and nerves. Sometimes he can’t help but feel a little empathy for these men, as annoyed as he is that they’re paying for this sort of experience rather than trying on queer visibility for free. Harry remembers being nervous too, his first time with a man. He plays with the zipper on Xander’s designer jeans and bites his lip.

“So, it’s $100 for hands, $150 for head,” he says, trying to sound like he’s not matching prices to how rich Xander seems to be. “Erm - $250 for the arse, but only if you have your own condom and lube cos I don’t have it today.”

Xander nods, looking a bit pale. He pulls out a thick wallet – _god, dead on_ – and hands him $150 with trembling fingers. Harry shoves it into a wallet with a numerical lock on it. By the time he’s got everything sorted, Xander has his cock out. It’s half-hard already, circumcised and pink on the underside. Harry makes a show of burying his face in Xander’s pubic hair and smelling it. To his relief, Xander smells clean with a hint of musk rather than filthy like some of his other clients. Straight men don’t always know (or care) how to wash their bodies. The drawbacks of having a niche, he supposes.

Harry lathes the cock vigorously up the bottom and down the sides. It’s long and thick and not unpleasant, all things considered. He even feels a hint of arousal when Xander starts to moan and swear and squirm underneath him. Oddly, he keeps looking down at Harry whenever he makes a particularly obscene noise or does something new with his hand. Usually these men tend to close their eyes and come so fast that they apologize to him after. Xander has much more stamina than that – perhaps he’s trying to get his money’s worth.

Harry starts deep-throating him because he’s fucking _tired_ and really doesn’t want to be here all night. To assist in the visuals, he shoves his hand down his pants and palms at his own cock. He thinks of other, better times that he’s given head – for free, even! His first boyfriend in university, and that summer romance three years ago, and that lovely stranger in Belfast –

Xander comes seconds before Harry does. It shoots violently into Harry’s mouth – _one, two, three!_ Harry artfully lets it drip out onto Xander’s cock when he pulls out so he has to swallow as little of it as possible. The rest, he spits in the same hand that now has a globule of his own come. Xander grabs a fistful of tissues and hands some to Harry. He looks uneasy, guilty – most of them do, after. Harry pats his cheek with his cleaner hand. 

“Thanks for that,” he says. Before he leaves the car with his purse, Xander grabs his wrist. Harry’s heart pounds in his throat – _the last time this happened_ – but then Xander lets go, realizing what he’s done.

“No, sorry! I didn’t mean – I just wanted to give you –” he rummages around in his trousers for his wallet and grabs another hundred dollar bill and a business card. “In case you ever need anything else.”

Harry takes the money and the card warily and puts them into his number-locked wallet. Then, he nods, and steps out of the car. Though he’s grateful for the extra money and the offer, he’s still spooked by the guy grabbing at him like that and wants to get away in case anything bad happens.

“I’ll think about it,” he says. Then, he takes a light jog over to his car, parked in a part of the parking lot that is shrouded in darkness. Once he’s in the car, he locks the doors tight. He throws his purse hard in the passenger’s seat, takes three deep breaths to still his hands, and finally heads home. 


End file.
